


Blessed Protector

by PsychGirl (snycock)



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22118143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snycock/pseuds/PsychGirl
Summary: Written for the TS Chatzy Concrit.  The prompt was "communication without dialogue"This is an excerpt from an as yet unwritten story where Blair takes a vow of silence after TSbyBS.
Relationships: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27
Collections: TSCC 12: Communication Without Dialogue





	Blessed Protector

Blair unlocked the door to the loft. He was tired and aching and wanted nothing more than a hot shower and bed. But his heart sank as he saw Jim standing next to the kitchen table, arms crossed, a thunderously dark look in his eyes.

Of course. Tom would have called and told Jim about the accident. 

Sighing, he tossed his keys in the basket and shrugged his coat off. Jim grabbed it from him and hung it up, one hand clamped around his biceps, directing him inexorably towards the chair and the impressive array of first-aid supplies on the table next to it. 

He dug his heels in and put one hand out, palm facing Jim. _Stop. I’m fine_. 

Jim let him go. Astonished, Blair watched him take a deep breath and release it slowly. Then he pointed to the chair, his gaze requesting rather than demanding. 

Okay, okay. If Jim was going to be flexible about this, then he was, too. After all, he knew this. This was Sentinel Blessed Protector mode in overdrive. With a nod, he sat down and let Jim examine his head. 

The box hadn’t been that heavy, but the corner had opened up a cut on his scalp, which, of course, bled like… well, like scalp wounds do. A lot. His sight had gone a little dim and blurred, but he’d seen the alarm on Tom’s face when he came back to the storeroom to see what had happened. 

He’d had to stop himself from blurting out _I’m okay, I’m okay_ ; the urge to answer the panic on Tom’s face was strong. It reminded him of early days, when he’d had to put all his effort into not talking. 

Tom had helped him clean up a little, and then sent him home. And called Jim, which he guessed was smart. If he thought Jim was overreacting now – it would have been twice as bad if he’d come home bruised and bloody without warning. 

He winced as Jim hit a particularly sore spot, right where the box had landed. Jim squeezed his shoulder in apology but kept running his fingers lightly over Blair’s skull, searching for anything more serious than bruises. 

It actually felt pretty good, as long as he avoided the bruised area. Blair closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, enjoying the gentle massage against his scalp. 

A light pat on his cheek roused him and he opened his eyes. Jim was dampening a piece of gauze with antiseptic; when Blair looked at him he pointed to the cut at his hairline. 

It stung, but Blair closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. When the pain had receded a bit, he opened his eyes to see Jim holding a small penlight.

Blair rolled his eyes and blew out a breath, hard. _This is ridiculous_. 

But Jim just took his chin firmly in one hand and flicked the light over his eyes, first right, then left. He blinked furiously and pulled his head away. 

Apparently Jim was satisfied, though, because he turned the light off and slipped it into the front pocket of his jeans. He did something to his watch, then raised two fingers. _Two hours_. 

He groaned and pressed his palms together in the middle of his chest. _Please_. Then he put his hands under his head and mimed sleeping. 

Jim shook his head slowly and pointed to the couch, then held up two fingers. 

Rolling his eyes again, he stomped over and flung himself down in front of the TV. _Great_. 


End file.
